A Year of Winter

nineteen

January 28th, 2013

Winter’s car was nearly out of gas by the time we reached Jake’s house. I’d tracked down his address in the white pages, holding my phone above the paper as my only light source, on the way. It was then she realized how low on gas we were, slamming the steering wheel with her palms.

“Fuck!” She exclaimed, grimacing. She pointed to the fuel gauge, “How far away is Jake’s house?”

“According to this,” I muttered, tracing a line from his name to his address slowly. “He lives on Central, which is just a few minutes away.”

“Alright,” She muttered under her breath, chewing pensively on her lip. She stared straight ahead when suddenly, a smirk twitched at her mouth, “I’ve got an idea.”

❄

“Why do you even have a funnel in your trunk to begin with?” I asked as she parked right in front of the Gavin household. She ignored me, though, and opened the door quickly, headed for the rear of the car.

“For situations such as these,” she explained, retrieving the funnel and hose from the trunk. She closed it quietly, her eyes flickering up to the old Tudor house.

I slipped out of my seat, careful not to make a sound. I looked at her meekly, “And how often do you find yourself in these situations?” I whispered, grimacing.

“Shh, shut up!” She demanded, suddenly clamping a hand over my mouth. Her entire body stood perfectly still for a moment and I did too, frightful of what she might to do me if I didn’t. After a second, I could see a light flicker on on the second floor of the house. Deftly, Winter pushed me closer towards her and ducked behind the car, keeping absolutely stagnant, as if she were not human at all, but a statue left on the road. She felt cold like a statue, too, and I might have believed she were one if I couldn’t hear her heavy breathing so well and have felt it so hot on my neck.

After about a minute of silence, I moved her hand slowly from my mouth, “Winter, I—”

“Shh!” she snapped again, moving her hand back over my mouth. She pushed me a little, as if to finalize her statement. I did as directed, though rather obstinately. After a moment, she gingerly removed her hand, turning my face towards her. Her index finger hovered over her mouth as she muttered, “Be. Quiet.”

I nodded in agreement, though she didn’t look so assured. She slowly peeked over the hood of her car, looking up at the grand old house with wide blue eyes. After a moment or so passed, the light flickered off, and, quickly as could be, she sprung back up to her feet. It took me a minute to catch up to her in the back of the car where she retrieved the funnel and hose again, as well as an empty, red gasoline jug.

I stuck close behind her as she headed towards the driveway where Jake’s familiar 65 Camaro sat placidly, undisturbed. Winter turned back around, narrowing her eyes at me through the dark, “You got the stuff?”

I gestured to the canvas bag hanging over my shoulder with a curt nod, speechless. I felt antsy walking up to the stranger’s driveway with Winter, vandalism on our mind. She’d gotten me to sneak out, she’d gotten me to skip school, and now, she was getting me to destroy this boy’s car. It wasn’t that it wasn’t entirely of her own volition and that I had no part in it, but Winter was certainly the backbone at the heart of this operation.

“Here—I’m gonna siphon the gas out of this car. You’re gonna bang the windows out. Quietly as possible. Got it?" 

I looked at her, wondering how one could act so calm in such a petrifying situation. My mouth ajar, I moved my lips to form a rejoinder, but nothing came to mind, and only hot air escaped my worried lips.